


Want Your Mouth Where My Hands Are

by DynamicDuo (XylB)



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: M/M, PWP, Trans Barry Allen, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:27:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25888813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XylB/pseuds/DynamicDuo
Summary: you busy tonight?> am I about to be?Three dots again.if you wantI'm not doing anything tonightor anyone;)Now, it's Hal's turn to bark out a laugh. Only Barry would call across the galaxy forphone sex.
Relationships: Barry Allen/Hal Jordan
Comments: 5
Kudos: 47





	Want Your Mouth Where My Hands Are

**Author's Note:**

> In case tag was overlooked: Barry is trans in this!

Hal settles in with TV and idle popcorn while the sunset slowly darkens to night - well, not _really_ , because Oa doesn't have sunsets, but the solar windows in his room are set to simulate an Earth environment, for him. So he can catch a sunrise and a sunset and rely on that to keep his body clock in check. The TV is Earth, too, and even the popcorn, although that will be because he brought it back specially. 

The Oan barracks used to be a lot more like barracks, impersonal and ugly on the horizon. Now, they're still ugly, but the occupants have transformed the barracks into _residences_ , still proper and functional but actually liveable. Each apartment consists of a bedroom, a kitchen, and a bathroom, so they're still small, but they're more permanent bases rather than temporary sleeping quarters for whichever Lanterns are on-planet at the time. 

Hal remembers when he used to be shuffled off into a random room - fold-up bed, a couple magazines in alien languages, and nothing else. But as they grew, the buildings grew with them, and they expanded the living quarters to include more rooms, because even though the ring _does_ technically take care of bodily functions, all of the Lanterns still appreciate doing those sorts of things... _naturally_. So Hal's is outfitted with an Earth-standard bathroom and kitchen, and his bedroom is adorned with stuff from home. Still professional and functional, but now there's a handful of model planes on shelves, a few posters, books, an old PSP that, oddly enough, Kiloweg figured out how to power using some super common mineral on his planet. So at least he has _that_. 

And on the bedside table, framed photos. One of the Justice League when they actually managed to get a group photo - but it's the silly version they took after the official photo, where Arthur is holding up bunny ears behind Bruce's head and J'onn has stretched his arm all the way around the back of the group to scare Barry - who's mostly a blur in this one, and Hal distinctly remembers the feeling of a startled Barry stumbling into him at super-speed. In fact, he's halfway to getting bowled over in the photo, starting his tumble towards Victor that ended up toppling all of the front row. 

Ah, good memories. 

Beside that is a photo of him and Barry, a Polaroid that doesn't quite fit the frame. It's from a fourth of July firework celebration in the hills above Central - a gathering, Barry assured Hal, that everyone in Central shows up for. And it certainly seemed that way when they got there, huddled in their little group of Barry, Hal, Wally, and Iris to find a space on one of the metal platforms set up specially for this. Hal remembers Barry ushering them through to secure an empty spot at the front, near the railing, guiding Hal with a hand in his and beaming proudly when they successfully obtained a corner spot. Wally had just gotten a Polaroid camera for this specifically - something about how film filters light differently than digital and he wanted to try it out with the fireworks. 

It's a fond memory for Hal, pressed up comfortably against Barry and watching the milling crowd settling in with picnic blankets and folding chairs to wait for the fireworks. Barry had asked for a photo of him and Hal, and Iris had teased them but Wally obliged with a shit-eating grin, snapping away a couple of them posed at the railing. Then suddenly, a firework had gone off in the distance - a misfire, one too early - but it had drawn cheers and laughter and looks from the crowd. Hal never saw it, though, because when Barry turned to look, Hal got distracted by how the red washed over his face, angled off his jaw, and how instantly, devastatingly _handsome_ he looked in the firework light. It had taken everything in him not to kiss him right there and then in front of his family. 

Funnily enough, he wasn't the only one to notice it, or the moment. Wally had handed them their printed photos, and later, after the fireworks, had privately handed Hal another photo. The only true candid of them, when Barry had looked at the firework but Hal had looked at _him_. _Thought you'd like it_ , Wally had said. Softly, smiling - not teasing or blasé, and Hal had hardly managed to stammer out a _thank you_ at the time. 

So Barry doesn't know he has this photo, because he never showed him, but he made a copy and brought it up here to sit by his bed. It's a good photo, Barry with an elbow on the railing, looking out, and Hal with his arm around his waist, but even Hal can see the stupidly affectionate smile on his face. John says he looks _smitten_. Hal wants to be embarrassed by that, but he knows it's true. Even all the way up on Oa, he can't stop smiling whenever he catches a glimpse of Barry. 

He wonders idly what Barry's doing right now. The time on Earth is roughly the same as Oa - the coincidence of distance and rotation and revolution means that Hal doesn't get jet lag whenever he arrives on Oa because the two planets are so similar in terms of day span. Oa's day is slightly longer, but by and large, it's the same. And the Citadel and Central being on the same side is just pure coincidence. Which means that it's nighttime for Barry as well - Hal checks his phone calendar. Friday. So it's not a patrol night for Barry unless there's been an active distress call, so he'll either be with his family, with his friends, or settling in at their apartment. 

As if on cue, Hal's phone buzzes with a telltale brr- _brr!_. He sets the empty popcorn bowl on the coffee table and swipes the message open with his thumb, grinning at the sender. 

_how's Oa_

_> green _

_> how's Earth? _

_green_ and _blue, I've heard_

_you'll have to send a picture sometime_

Hal Googles an image of Earth from space and sends it back. He can practically _hear_ Barry's laughter all the way across the galaxy. 

_ah, thank you, I'd forgotten what the marble looked like_

_you up to anything?_

_> no _

_> just watching tv _

_> you? _

_eh, same_

_I miss you_

_> I miss you too_

Three dots pop up. Go away. Barry pauses in his typing. Hal waits patiently for the next message. 

_you busy tonight?_

_> am I about to be? _

Three dots again. 

_if you want_

_I'm not doing anything tonight_

_or any_ one _;)_

Now, it's Hal's turn to bark out a laugh. Only Barry would call across the galaxy for _phone sex_. 

_> looks like I'm about to have my hands full then_

_> well, one hand_

_that's the idea_

_> where are you? _

_our place_

An image comes through shortly afterwards. Hal opens it carelessly, and it is, indeed, proof that he's in their bathroom, but it's not the environment that Hal's eyes are glued to. No, that would be the tantalising amount of _skin_ in the mirror. It's just Barry shirtless, but Hal's not dumb enough to think it's an accident that he's in the shot. And it has been _weeks_ since he's touched any of Barry. 

Hal turns off the TV. Call him old-fashioned, but he likes to pay attention when his hot boyfriend propositions him. 

_enjoying the view?_

Hal doesn't even _know_ how to respond at first, slumping down a little on his compact two-seater sofa to ease the restriction in his jeans. It should probably be embarrassing that he's already starting to get _interested_ , but he has no room for that while trying to decide what to type. 

He settles on snarky. 

_> wasn't quite in focus _

_> maybe you should clean the mirror _

_playing hard to get? I like it_

Hal knows that Barry knows full well that Hal may be the easiest to get. But it doesn't stop Barry sending another photo - this time on the bed, his thumb hooked in his sweats and pulling them down to expose more skin, naked from chest to hip. Hal follows the line of his happy trail to the lowered waistband and spit pools under his tongue. It's a conscious effort to swallow. 

_> holy shit_

_said I missed you_

_where are you?_

Hal knows the question, and he's already got a hand on himself to answer it, grinding his palm down on the zipper of his jeans and blowing out a hard breath through his nose as he scrolls back up to the photo, imagines himself tracing the lines of muscle he can make out in it, kissing down to where Barry's thumb _just_ covers the base of his cock - Hal stops himself with a sharp inhale. If he gets too carried away, this'll go _nowhere_. 

He unzips his jeans and flips his phone camera to aim at his lap, spreading the flaps so Barry can see the bulge in his underwear. Sexting isn't a stranger to either of them, not with their jobs, but it always feels so _filthy_ every time. Hal loves it. He presses send. 

_> and I said I missed you too_

_shit_

_already down to one hand huh?_

_> you aren't? _

In response, Barry just sends a photo of his discarded sweats. Hal takes himself out of his underwear and returns the favour. Texting gets reduced to little more than one-handed, typoed compliments and traded photos, mostly hints and teasing until Barry sends the first full nude and Hal has no choice but to lick his palm to ease the friction. He almost forgot how _fun_ this was, the thrill of knowing Barry's getting off at the same time on a planet across the galaxy, that they're both sort of struggling to keep photos in focus sometimes, that Barry's short, sweary replies mean that he's a bit too busy to type out a full sentence. His cockiness drops quicker over text. But they're still slow, Hal stroking himself patiently and _enjoying_ every single shudder that ripples through his spine. Still, he manages to ask the question that'll kick it up a notch for both of them. 

_> you wanna call? _

_yeah_

Barry's number rings through smoothly - a perk of renewed and refurbished Oan technology. Hal puts the phone on speaker and greets Barry through a shaky breath. Barry laughs softly, then exhales in a stutter. Hal swears under his breath. 

"You close?" He asks, squeezing the circle of his fingers around the head. 

"Trying not to be," Barry replies, his voice thick with arousal. " _Fuck_ , wanna make this last." 

"Yeah, me too," Hal breathes. "God, I wish I was there. Wish - _mm_ \- wish you were touching me." 

"You can say you want my mouth, Hal," Barry teases. Hal groans at the thought, imagines Barry between his legs, lips around him, his tongue pressing against the underside - 

"I'd take anything," he pants, and rolls his hips up into his fist. "But yeah, I miss your mouth - _fuck_." 

"Jesus," Barry swears softly. "I wanna watch you." 

Hal licks his lips and glances at the phone. "We could always video call." 

Barry huffs out a laugh. "I don't, uh, exactly have the _hands_ to hold a phone." 

Hal gasps at the implication - at the _knowledge_. "Are you - _fuck_ \- are you fingering yourself?" 

"Yeah, maybe." As if to emphasise, Barry bites back a moan - Hal tips his head back against the sofa with a ragged noise and fucks up into his fist, mind racing with the possibilities. Barry _prepared_ for tonight. Fuck. 

" _Shit_ ," he curses. " _Wow_ , I wanna be there." 

"It's better when you do it," Barry adds breathlessly. Hal's head _spins_ with arousal. Fuck, if he keeps drawing this out he'll end up leaking all over his fingers - can feel himself getting dangerously close to that already, his scalp tingling with the heat that flushes through his whole body. 

"Barry - " 

"I might - _ah_ \- I might be able to - hold on a second." Something clatters on Barry's end as he, presumably, fumbles with the phone or other technology - Hal grips his base and pauses, trying to catch his breath and failing as his toes curl in his socks. 

A new call rings through, cancelling out the previous one, and when Hal swipes it through he can see Barry's gotten his laptop up on the beside table, positioned it so Hal can see him lying on the bed, one leg flat and the other cocked. His right hand snakes around and under his thigh, and Hal can just _barely_ tell where two fingers are buried in his asshole. His other hand returns into view from adjusting the laptop, stops at his mouth to lick it, and travels back down to stroke his cock again. 

Hal almost comes on the spot. 

"What, you're suddenly shy?" Barry asks, still cocky despite the red tips of his ears. 

"Just stunned," Hal replies, mouth dry. He flips the camera to his lap again, shifting to try and get a good angle on the video. Watches, rapt, as Barry's hips buck up and fuck back down on his fingers, every muscle in his torso clenching up and relaxing in turn. This time, when Hal strokes himself, his thumb comes away wet from the tip. 

" _Fuck_ ," Barry moans, eyes fixed on Hal the same way Hal's are fixed on him. "Hal - fuck, you're _hot_." 

Hal doesn't have the coherency to respond to that other than a moan, and his hand makes the video too shaky - he pushes out his phone's kickstand and places it on the arm of the sofa, angling it so Barry can see him from face to hips. They both groan on their next respective strokes - Barry's hand is moving faster than Hal's, now, his forearm tense as he rocks between his hands. Hal can almost fucking _taste_ the memory of him just from watching, swallowing reflexively, cock twitching in his hand with another bead of slick. Fuck, he doesn't usually get wet just from stuff like this, and he doesn't usually make _noise_ , but Barry just brings out all sorts of stuff in him, especially when he's sounding as wrecked as Hal _feels_ , his palm getting slowly slicker with each pass. 

"Barry, I'm close," Hal pants, rubs his palm in a hard circle on the head just to punish himself a little - Barry nods and _groans_ , deep, his eyes closing briefly. Hal struggles to keep his open. 

"Hal, _shit_." Barry's fingers and cock are shiny with lube; Hal wishes it was his spit instead, wishes desperately he could be between Barry's legs and feel them tremble and tense around his head while fingers tug and clutch at his hair - sense memory makes him shiver. 

Barry's fingers are nearly a blur with the camera quality as he jacks off, his panting short and sharp as he gets close - Hal's not far behind him, unbidden noise tumbling out of his mouth, hips lifting into every thrust and something like an embarrassing whine escaping his throat when his fingers tighten. It's so fucking _hard_ to try and hold on when Barry's suddenly tensing up all over - visibly, muscle standing out in his arm and his thighs - and panting Hal's name in frantic little huffs - 

" _Fuck_ ," Barry spits vehemently, and comes with a shudder that Hal can see even through the camera, shoulders lifting up off the bed and slamming back down. " _Hal_." 

"God," Hal pants. "Barry, I - _ah_ \- " He can barely string a sentence together with the new wave of abrupt, rushing heat that spears through him, making his mouth clumsy and his hips clumsier, moaning Barry's name and fucking up carelessly into his fist as Barry trembles on the other end of the line. Hal's toes curl, his legs tense, he can feel the blush racing up his neck and to his cheeks, and all he can think of is Barry when he finally tips over into the point of no return and comes with Barry's name on his lips. Distantly, he can feel come land on the hem of his shirt. 

He can't help the soft little noises that puff out of him with each breath when he keeps stroking, prolonging the tingling pleasure setting in across his skin. With effort, he opens his eyes - when had he closed them? - and turns to look at Barry again. At some point, he readjusted, both his hands resting on his thighs and his legs both flat on the bed - but as Hal watches, his left hand returns to his crotch, stroking idly. Hal is definitely jealous of how Barry can go twice. 

"That was...really fucking good," Hal says, slumping against the sofa. His hand slows to nothing more than a caress, too sensitive for much more. He looks at Barry's hand and back to his eyes. He grins. "You wanna go again?" 

"When do I _not_?" 

Yeah, that's a good point. Hal lets the heat of that ripple through him. Glances down between Barry's legs again. 

"I wanna blow you," he says, bold with post-orgasm relief. But it seems to work for Barry, who exhales shakily. 

"Jeez, Hal, the _mouth_ on you," he jokes, but Hal makes it backfire. 

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking of doing it with." 

Barry moans very very softly. Closes his eyes. 

"Keep, uh, keep talking," he says quietly - Hal understands his odd embarrassment, because just _talking_ about it to him over a phone call, not even trying to spin it as dirty talk - which Hal can't do smoothly anyway, not with how his wires get crossed the second he gets hard - is thrilling in a sharp, sort of _forbidden_ way. So Hal rests his head against the sofa and looks up at his ceiling as he talks. 

"Yeah," he says uselessly. "Yeah, fuck, I really want to, Barry. Wanna just - I don't know, wanna spend fucking _hours_ there." He huffs out a laugh. "Maybe try and pull some new tricks." He closes his eyes and tries to summon up a fantasy - an easy feat, with how much time he spends fantasising about Barry in the shower. 

"I think we should revisit some positions when I get back," he starts, smiling slightly. 

"Yeah?" 

Hal swallows back his hesitation. "Yeah. Think you should fuck my face more often." 

" _Hal_ , Christ." 

"I like it," Hal continues, flushes warm all over. "It's hot." 

Barry pants audibly on the other end. Hal cracks an eye open to watch - Barry's are still closed, a crease between his eyebrows as his wrist works, whole body shifting and twitching with each stroke. Hal's palms itch with the urge to _touch_ , to smooth his hands over Barry's abdomen, his thighs, to rub against the grain of hair and chase his fingertips with deliberate kisses. His cheeks cramp with the rush of spit that floods his tongue. 

"We should christen our new sofa," he says. He swallows thickly. Embarrassment runs closer to humiliation with his next words. "Want you to bend me over it, fuck, always like it when you get bossy." 

Barry covers his eyes with his forearm. 

"You're fucking filthy," he pants, and sucks in a shuddering breath. "Fuck." 

"Hey, I'm just saying what I like," Hal says, forcibly casual, but even he can feel the blush burning on his cheeks. He's almost glad Barry isn't watching him right back. "I wanna make you come." 

"You're about to," Barry warns breathlessly, hips lifting up to meet his fingers, now. 

"I wanna do it in _person_ ," Hal says, eyes glued to the phone. "Shit, Barry, when I come back you better fucking make me ache all over - " 

He's interrupted by a low, abrupt moan and by the sight of Barry's hips bucking up frantically, chasing his fingers. 

"Fuckfuck - _Hal_ ," Barry bites out, and _moans_ again, broken and shuddering as he comes, a visible shake running through his body. 

Heat pulses determinedly through Hal, but all he can do is pant softly and wish he could get it up again. His hand presses idly to his softening cock once more, but it gets him nothing but a weak buzz of arousal that's nice but will go nowhere. Barry keeps stroking until his mouth twists up with the telltale sign of oversensitivity, and he has to stop, his arm slowing gradually until he sucks in a sharp breath at a too-much touch. For a moment, the only sound is of both of them catching their breath. 

"I can do that," Barry promises belatedly. He lifts his forearm from his face and drops it on the bed. 

"It's a date," Hal jokes back, and Barry laughs. Hal tucks himself in and brushes his thumb over the come on his shirt. Good thing his apartment has an Earth washing machine, too. 

"Okay, let me wash my hands," Barry says, starting to slide his legs off the bed - then he pauses, and frowns. "No, I think I'm in shower territory." 

"Hey, I'll join you in that," Hal replies. His shirt is sticking to the middle of his back with sweat. "Call you in twenty?" 

"Yeah," Barry agrees, and shuffles a little closer to the camera. "I love you." 

"I love you, too." Hal picks up his phone to give Barry a fond little wave. "See you in twenty?" 

"See you then."

The apartment seems so much quieter when the call ends. Emptier. Hal pushes himself up with a sigh and strips off his shirt to dump it in a laundry hamper on his way to the shower, buoyed by the promise of hanging out with Barry until he has to go to bed. The fake moon glitters prettily in his window, stars twinkling below it like a blanket - an incorrect detail for Hal specifically, because he grew up primarily in cities where the brightest stars were low-flying plane signals and high-strung crane lights. But the moon cycle is correct. 

It's a small, private comfort, knowing that he's looking at a copy of the same moon that Barry is looking at. Like they're connected even across the galaxy. 

Hal turns his framed Polaroid to face the window and goes to shower. 


End file.
